2. Chapter 2
Benson
Even in business class, it’s surprisingly hard to sleep when the person next to you is sobbing hysterically.
I’ve done my best to ignore her, as a good seatmate should, but this is getting ridiculous.
It’s been hours . We still have five hours before we land in Rome, and I worked through the night and up to the wire today to ensure I’d be able to get on this flight. I just want to sleep.
The woman sniffles, hiding her face in her blanket while I pretend not to look at her. At least she’s trying to stifle her noise, but this is clearly not the sort of cry she can hold in. I doubt it’s stopping anytime soon.
Sighing, I shift in my seat and fully open my eyes. “Funeral?”
She startles and meets my gaze, only her red-rimmed eyes visible from behind the blanket. “What?”
“Is that why you’re going to Italy?” If it’s anything else, I’m going to question this level of crying. And maybe her sanity.
Sniffing, she stares at me for a long time before wiping her eyes with her sleeve and slowly lowering the blanket.
She had her nose deep in a book when I boarded last-minute, so I didn’t give her much attention before takeoff, but I kind of wish I had.
Aside from the blotchy redness from her crying, she’s cute.
In an innocent, messy kind of way. “My…” She hiccups and drops her gaze to her lap. “My honeymoon, actually.”
Message received. No attraction allowed. “Oh. Uh. Are you crying because I stole his seat or something?” I glance behind me, though I can’t see much in the dark plane. Is there some guy back there snoring away while his new wife is in hysterics?
With a scoff, my seatmate bends down and unzips the enormous backpack she brought with her.
She has to dig for a while, but she eventually pulls out a packet of tissues.
“Of course not,” she says, snippier than I expect.
Suddenly she’s less of a damsel in distress and more of a woman scorned, and I regret starting up a conversation.
That type of woman is not my cup of tea, and I’ve encountered it far more often than I’d like.
At least she’s not crying anymore. Crying is almost worse. “He’s not here. That’s why I’m crying.”
There are a few different ways this could go. I could ask where he is and satisfy my curiosity, or I could remember that her life is none of my business and try to go back to sleep now that she’s quiet. Or she could not give me a choice at all and—
“We broke up a couple of months ago.” She tugs a tissue from the plastic wrapper and loudly blows her nose, pulling a couple of disgruntled gazes our way.
Woman scorned. Nailed it.
“Why are you going to Italy?” she asks.
I’m not about to tell her that I’m going to a wedding. With my luck, that would set off the tears again. “Seeing some friends.” While that could easily be the end of the conversation, my curiosity won’t let me leave it alone. “So you’re still going on your honeymoon without the man? Good for you.”
She flashes a brief, joyless smile as she stuffs her used tissue into her pocket. “Non-refundable,” she mumbles, bending to dig into her backpack again. “Rewards points. You know…”
“Great reasons to leave the guy behind for a while.” I chuckle, adjusting myself to a slightly more comfortable position and closing my eyes.
While I would rather be in first class, anything beats economy when a flight is more than two hours.
If I’d known earlier that I would have the time to make it to this wedding, I would have booked a better seat, but I’m suffering the woes of last-minute plans.
Maybe I did take this woman’s fiancé’s seat, and I send a silent thank you to the guy.
I don’t care for weddings, but I would have hated to miss this one for a number of reasons. Plus, it’s in Florence. I love that city.
Anyway, the woman next to me has stopped crying, which means I might get a few hours of sleep now.
“Have you been to Italy before?”
My jaw clenches. Debating the pros and cons of ignoring her, I think about spending the next five hours with her negative energy if I cut the conversation short.
She’d probably spend the whole night glaring at me, and there’s no way I’d be able to sleep with her looming over me.
With a sigh, I lift my seat up. If I’m not going to sleep, I might as well talk to her.
She’s still cute, especially now that I know she’s single.
Newly single, yeah, but sometimes those are the best kind. They’re not looking for commitment.
“A few times,” I say with a shrug. “You?”
She shakes her head. “No.” I could have guessed as much with the size of her backpack.
She’s not planning on carrying that thing around Rome, is she?
She’ll be a prime target for pickpockets, not to mention she’ll get some serious back pain lugging that beast around.
“I’ve always wanted to go, but I haven’t… ”
Studying her, I wonder if she’s ever traveled before, but I’m thinking not.
I would bet money that she brought more than one suitcase and will be that tourist who wears tennis shoes and hangs her wallet around her neck and tucked down her shirt.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a travel guide in that backpack of hers and a few months of Duolingo Italian lessons under her belt.
“Well, the city is great,” I mutter instead of telling her that her mediocre Italian phrases aren’t going to do her much good. No one needs to know that the horse is brown. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“I’m hoping it’s like riding a bike.”
I frown, rubbing my jaw as I try to figure out what she means. “What is?” I ask when I come up blank. I’m usually pretty good at interpreting people in conversation, but I’m too tired for this tonight.
She smiles again, only this time it’s warm and lasts longer than half a second. “Traveling. I used to travel all the time, but it’s been a few years.”
Huh. Color me surprised. “What stopped you?”
She shrugs, settling a bit in her seat like she’s relaxing for the first time since getting on the plane. “Life? I guess. My fiancé—my ex—he isn’t much of a traveler, and then with work and stuff it wasn’t…” Another shrug. “And I think I used to be braver than I am now, you know?”
Not really, but I nod anyway.
She keeps talking, which makes my side of the conversation exceptionally easy.
Why can’t all conversations with attractive women be like this?
“Why does adulthood do that to us?” she asks, clearly not expecting an answer as she continues.
“Like, it takes all the fun out of life and makes us responsible and anxious all at the same time.”
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.
She has fallen into the classic adult blunder of thinking there’s only one way to live, one full of boring jobs and routines without deviation.
It makes me sad but also incredibly grateful that I didn’t fall into the trap like most people.
My career takes me all over the country, constantly meeting new people and facing new challenges, and I would never call my life boring.
I was smart enough to take a more adventurous approach to life when I hit adulthood.
“Well,” I say, feeling her eyes on me even though mine are locked on the seat in front of me, “it looks like you’re heading in the right direction by taking this trip. I hope it reminds you of the good old days.”
“Me too. I’ll, uh, let you sleep. I’m Avery, by the way.” She sticks her hand in front of me.
I’m surprised by her boldness and can’t help but smile as I grasp her hand.
Her fingers are warm and soft, and now that she’s less blotchy I’m finding it harder to look away from her.
She really is beautiful, and there’s something inviting about her, like there’s a lot more to her than what I can see in the dim cabin lights.
Do I really need sleep? Or do I spend the next few hours flirting with Avery before we part ways forever? That sounds more fun. I squeeze her hand, broadening my smile in a way that usually works to my advantage. “Benson.”
“Benson,” she repeats as a bit of color brightens her cheeks. “I like that.”
That gets a chuckle out of me. I didn’t always like my name, but I’ve grown into it. “Thanks. I like your name too.”
“I’ll really let you sleep now.”
And she does. She pops in some headphones and starts an audiobook on her phone—romance, from the look of it—and though I’m wide awake the rest of the flight, she doesn’t say a word.
I’m almost disappointed when we land in Rome and I know nothing about her but her name.